The Winchester Walkaway
by a.lakewood
Summary: Bela Talbot hires a specialist to steal the Colt from the Winchester brothers – too bad her plan doesn't go as she imagined.  Dean/Eliot.


**Title:** The Winchester Walk-away [1/1]  
><strong>Author<strong>**:** alakewood  
><strong>CharactersPairing****:** Dean Winchester/Eliot Spencer, Sam Winchester, mentions of Bobby Singer and Bela Talbot.  
><strong>Warning:<strong> Slash. P(with vague)P. AU ending of the _Supernatural_ episode _Dream a Little Dream of Me._ **Kind of OOC.** Eh.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>NC-17  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>~2400  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Bela Talbot hires a specialist to steal the Colt from the Winchester brothers – too bad her plan doesn't go as she imagined.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Dean was more than ready to get the hell out of Dodge. Or, Pittsburgh as it was. He and Sam had sent Bobby off that afternoon after hearing news about Jeremy Frost's untimely demise, and spent the rest of the early evening in a bar not far down the road from their motel. He wasn't quite looking forward to going back into that space, not after what he'd experienced in his dream, but they had to pack so they could get back on the road again. And the sooner the better.

"So, Bobby mentioned a job down by Fort Lauderdale," Sam said as they started across the gravel parking lot. "Something about a Mystery-"

"Shush," Dean said, throwing his right arm out, palm pressing against Sam's ribs to get him to halt. He jutted his chin towards their room. "You see that?"

They stood still for a couple long seconds and, as Sam was about to speak, a faint beam of light cut across the thin curtain in their dark room.

"You grab the Colt," Dean said, digging the keys for the Impala out of his jeans pocket. "Text me your location in 24." Bobby _had_kind of warned them that Bela was probably up to no good, offering a 'favor' when there didn't seem to be anything for her to gain. Because, honestly, it wasn't like Sam or Dean intended to help her in return. Well, Dean didn't, anyway.

"Dean?"

"Just do what I say, Sammy." Dean took a wide berth around the window so his shadow cast by the lone streetlamp lighting the parking lot would fall across it and quietly opened the door. He dove for the man kneeling in front of the safe and took him to the floor, but, while the intruder was about his height, he had about as much muscle on him as a 'roided NFL linebacker. "Mother fucker," he wheezed as he was tackled against the wall. "Go, Sam, _go!_" He kept an eye on his little brother as Sam went to work on the safe's dial and got it open without a hitch, dull gleam of the Colt's barrel flashing before it was stashed away into Sam's waistband.

"Twenty-four," Sam said before disappearing out of the room. The Impala's engine roared to life a moment later, followed by the crunch of gravel under its tires as Sam drove away.

Dean shoved at the man looming over him, managed to get a cheap shot to the guy's gut in – solid fucking muscle, but Dean's a good dirty fighter when it comes to close quarters – and their situation was quickly reversed, Dean pinning the man to the floor. He adjusted his hips, slid his body back just a little further over the one beneath him so he was straddling upper thighs and groin, and felt the familiar had press of arousal against his ass. He rolled his pelvis forward as he took both of the man's wrists in one hand to lean over him. Their chests touched when the man breathed deep through his nose and Dean didn't have to wonder if it was simply adrenalin from the fight that made the man hard when he caught sight of the man's lust-blown pupils. Well, Dean guessed it, maybe, could have been because of the dimness of the room, but then the guy lifted his hips in a way that was more trying-to-get-better-friction than trying-to-knock-Dean-off. "Lucky for you," Dean finally said, "guys like you are kinda my Achilles' elbow. I might be able to overlook your attempt at trying to steal from me."

"Heel," the man grit out in a low, rough voice.

"What?"

"Achilles' _heel._"

"Heel, elbow, ballsack, _whatever._Get's me hard." He gave a slow thrust against the hard length beneath his own to offer his proof.

"Achilles' heel was his weakest spot," the man breathed, head lifting off the carpet and long, dark hair falling away from his eyes.

"Well, my cock is one of mine." Dean rolled his hips again, loosened his grip on the man's wrists just a fraction. "Seems we got a common interest. You gonna hightail it if I let you go?"

"You gonna throw me around some more if I try?" The man arched an eyebrow as he flexed his wrists.

"You like to get manhandled, huh?"

"Doesn't seem like I'm the only one."

Dean smirked, shifting his weight to his knees as he leaned back. "I happen to like it a little rough."

The man rolled his shoulders, got his elbows beneath him but made no move to get out from underneath Dean. "Name's Eliot Spencer."

Dean nodded. "I'm D-"

"Dean Winchester. Yeah, I know."

Dean smirked again, scratched at the back of his neck. "You did break into my room."

"Technically, Robert Plant's. Interesting alias, by the way."

"What can I say? I'm a Zeppelin fan." He rolled from his knees back onto the soles of his boots and stood, offering Eliot a hand.

Eliot took Dean's hand, let the younger man pull him up. "So, I just missed out on a pretty big payday."

"Yeah? How much did Bela offer you to steal the Colt?"

It was Eliot's turn to smirk. "A fairly obscene amount. Considering that it's just a gun."

Dean scoffed. "It's more than just a gun. And trust me, it's worth more than she could ever pay you."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"I guess we'll just have to figure out a way for you to make it up to me."

"Mm. I think I know how." Dean backed Eliot up against the wall again, shoved him into the drywall from a foot away before attacking his mouth with teeth and tongue, getting back just as good as he gave.

Eliot tugged at Dean's clothes, sending the buttons of Dean's overshirt flying in his haste to get it off before starting on his belt buckle. "Yeah. I think we can work something out."

Dean detected a hint of a Southern drawl there and, yeah, it was pretty goddamn hot when combined with the roughness of Eliot's voice. "Good." He got his hands under the simple t-shirt Eliot wore and pulled it up and off, tossing it to the floor after his own. It didn't take long for them both to get naked, kicking out of boots and shucking out of jeans, then Dean had his hands tangled in Eliot's long hair as he maneuvered them towards the bed that had been Sam's. Dean shoved two of his fingers into Eliot's mouth after they'd fallen to the mattress. "Suck," he demanded. "Get 'em good and wet for me 'cause it's all the lube you're gonna get."

Eliot let his knees drop to the mattress as Dean settled between his thighs. He sucked hard on Dean's fingers even as bucked up against Dean's stomach, searching for whatever friction he could find. Movement of his hips synchronized with the suction of his mouth and he slipped one of his hands between their bodies to find Dean's dick, adjusting until he could wrap his hand around both their cocks.

"Fuck, that's good." He pulled his dripping fingers from Eliot's mouth and moved just enough to get his hand between them, spit-slick fingers pressed against Eliot's hole, one pressing inside without preamble.

"_That_'s good." Eliot arched up against Dean, tried to capture his mouth again.

Dean met Eliot halfway in a kiss that verged on violent. Dean tasted copper on his tongue, didn't know if it was Eliot's blood or his own, and kissed harder. Eliot's hand that was jerking them both slipped up his side and across his chest, palm dragging over his pec before his nipple was caught between thumb and forefinger. Dean scissored his fingers in Eliot's ass, rutted his cock in Eliot's hand, and bit at Eliot's throat. "You ready for me?"

"Yeah. Come on, Winchester. Fuck me."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. Pulled his cock from Eliot's hand and positioned himself at Eliot's hole. He stroked himself a couple of times, milked enough precome from his dick to help slick the way just a little. It didn't seem to make much difference, he still met resistance. "So fucking tight."

"Don't give it up to just anyone," Eliot said through clenched teeth, shifting his hips in an attempt to ease the pain of Dean's cock into his inadequately prepared hole.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Dean was fully buried inside Eliot and even longer before he started to move again. "You're gonna feel me for days."

Eliot's hands slipped around to Dean's ass as he bit at a cord of tendon in Dean's throat, fingers of his left splaying over and squeezing one muscled globe while the other smoothed over the flesh before lifting away, only to return a half-second later with a hard smack. It made Dean's cock twitch. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you feel me, too," Eliot promised, slapping Dean's ass again.

"Won't be forgetting this anytime soon. Trust me." He pulled completely out of Eliot's ass and tugged at one of the man's hips. "Turn over."

Eliot did as instructed and rolled over onto his knees. Dean got back up behind him and pushed him closer to the headboard. He got the idea, took hold of the wooden frame and spread his knees, arching his back to present his ass to Dean again. "What're you waiting for?"

"Nothin'," Dean said, sliding his dick between Eliot's ass cheeks, a slow drag that made the head of his cock catch on Eliot's abused hole.

"C'mon, man, fuck me."

"You gonna beg for it?" Dean pressed his body up against Eliot's, caught the older man's hair in one hand and pulled, baring Eliot's stubbled neck to his mouth. He let his teeth scrape over tanned skin before biting the thin flesh over Eliot's pulse. "You want it? Beg me." His other hand slipped around to Eliot's half-hard dick, stroked him rough.

"You fight dirty," Eliot breathed.

"Don't really see you complainin'." Dean's cock dripped precome as Eliot hardened in his hand, thrust into his tight grip.

"Fuck me, Dean. Fuck me hard. Come _on,_ Winchester. _Do it._" He pressed his ass back against Dean's dick.

"Sounds more like you're ordering me than begging me," Dean said distractedly, rutting harder against Eliot, head of his cock catching and pressing into Eliot's hole.

Eliot gasped at the unexpected intrusion. "Yeah, please. _Please._"

"Better." Dean shoved into Eliot's ass, knocked the man beneath him forward a good couple of inches with the force of it.

"Fuck!" Eliot slapped a hand against the wall, braced himself against Dean's thrusts.

Eliot was hot and solid in his hand, steadily leaking precome, letting Dean know just how much he was getting off on Dean's abuse of his body. He tugged on Eliot's hair again, caught his mouth in another vicious kiss. God, he was close.

When Eliot started pressing back into him, Dean had though he was going to lose it right then. Then Eliot let loose with a low, animalistic growl that went right to Dean's cock. "Right- right there. Oh, fuck."

Dean widened his stance, tried to find Eliot's prostate once more, knew he got the angle right when Eliot growled again. "You close?"

"Yeah. Fuck, yeah."

Dean sped up his hand on Eliot's dick, twisted his wrist on the upstroke, pressed his thumb against that bundle of nerves under the head before swiping it over the slit. "Come on, Eliot," Dean said against his neck. "Gonna come for me when I tell you to."

"Yeah. Yeah. So fucking close."

Dean's left arm snaked across Eliot's chest, right hand keeping up its ministrations as he fucked Eliot harder, pounding against his prostate again and again. "You ready?"

"Fuck, Dean."

"You ready?" he asked again.

"Yeah. Let me."

Didn't even have to ask him to beg for it. "Okay." Dean paused. "Come for me, Eliot." Two more strokes of his hand and another thrust against his prostate and Eliot was spilling over Dean's hand, tight muscles in his ass clenching and fluttering around Dean's dick.

"Jesus _fuck._"

"Holy-" Dean wasn't going to last much longer, the feel of Eliot around him and beneath him pushing him that much closer. Both hands on Eliot's hips, he started fucking Eliot even harder, chasing after his orgasm. So close. Almost there.

"Come on, Dean. Come on. _Come on!_" Eliot arched his back low, turned his head in an awkward angle to reach Dean's mouth, biting at his lower lip.

Half a dozen thrusts and Dean was coming hard, slick heat filling Eliot and dripping down the insides of his thighs. Dean's mouth closed over the closest available expanse of skin, bit into the muscled flesh of Eliot's shoulder. "So fucking hot, man," he panted, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, he pulled out of Eliot's ass, reached for the flat sheet to wipe his hand clean before pulling it free from the threadbare coverlet and offering it to Eliot.

"Thanks," Eliot said gruffly, accepting the sheet and wiping down his thighs.

"So what're you gonna tell Bela?"

"That y'all were already gone when I got here," Eliot said, reaching for his jeans, tugging them and his underwear up at the same time.

Dean nodded. "What if she sends you after it again?"

Eliot tugged his shirt on, shoved his feet into his boots. "Then I guess I'll be seein' ya." He started for the door, paused with a hand on the knob. "Maybe I can return the favor."

Dean's cock twitched with interest at the though of Eliot pinning him down and fucking him hard. Yeah, Dean could get behind that idea. Or, underneath it. "Maybe." And fuck if that didn't sound like a promise.

The corner of Eliot's mouth quirked up in a devious smirk and, without another word, he slipped out of the room.


End file.
